


maybe not that loud

by DevilishKurumi



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Big Brother Is Watching You, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishKurumi/pseuds/DevilishKurumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil and Carlos have sex and get a citation for their troubles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe not that loud

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by my heterosexual lifemate and wife kinomatika and her lovely art, [which is here](http://kinomatika.tumblr.com/post/57574364214)! i promised i'd write her porn for this fandom and i got distracted from my other fic by wow, so i wrote this in an hour to make it up to her
> 
> lightly edited at 7 am after a full day of doing things, so if there are any errors let me know so i can fix them u3u

            Cecil is never quiet and at first, Carlos didn't know how to take it.  On the one hand, there's nothing quite like exploring what makes Cecil writhe and moan, what makes him gasp and what makes him cry out.  The noises Cecil makes in bed are more than an ego boost; they're affirmations that they're both alive and well and, after one too many near death experiences, Carlos has come to really and truly appreciate those sorts of things.

            On the other hand, he knows Cecil's apartment is bugged, and it's more than a little mortifying knowing that half of the secret police can hear all the noises Carlos can pry out of him.  He can't even meet the eyes of anyone in a balaclava anymore.  _Especially_ not after the day after he and Cecil had finally had sex, when one of the officers on patrol had passed him with a congratulatory slap on the back.  Even thinking about it makes him feel a combination of unease and absolute embarrassment.

            He'd mentioned it once, and Cecil had told him that they were really very good about tuning out of sexual escapades, but that, surprisingly, wasn't very reassuring.

            Right now, though, with Cecil's cheek pressed into his purple sheets, Carlos bent over his back with his fingers pressing red indents into Cecil's hips, no number of balaclava-clad thugs listening in can distract him.  Cecil has an arch to his back that's not unlike a cat's, his nails digging into the sheets as he clenches, then unclenches his hands.  He moans, voice breaking high and thready, and he says, " _Carlos_ ," like it's the only word he knows.

            It's more than an ego boost and _so much more_ than an affirmation, clenching at Carlos's heart and lungs and making him gasp.

            " _Like that,_ " Cecil whines, "Like that, like that, oh, _yes_!"  He makes tiny, monosyllabic sounds, sharp and soft vowels falling out of his mouth, and only Cecil could make _ah_ 's and _oh_ 's raunchier than swearing or dirty talk.  He leans on his knees, pulls away from Carlos only enough to make pressing back into him that much sweeter; Carlos doesn't catch the groan before it escapes his throat and Cecil murmurs, then gasps, saying, "Harder, almost - harder, _ah,_ just..."

            Carlos, leaning down to press his lips against the dip between Cecil's shoulder blades, finally moves his hand, slipping along the curve of Cecil's pelvic bone, fingertips rubbing briefly against the head of his dick, earning a jerking shudder that ends in a disappointed moan as his fingers, slickened slightly now, pull away.  " _Carlos_ ," Cecil says again, and there's nothing on this earth that Carlos wants to hear more right now.  Just that sonorous, dissected voice saying his name again, and then once more, only more urgently, as his barely slick hand wraps around his dick fully.  " _Ah!_ "

            "I know," Carlos says, because he _does_ , and it only takes a few quick thrusts that slide Cecil through his fingers for him to come, voice breaking before he can do more than cry out the beginning of a scream.

            He twists under Carlos, hisses out a long, emphatic, " _Yes_ ," and reaches a hand up to tangle in Carlos's hair, pulling at it, shuddering and rocking back with his knees and hips into Carlos's body.  He's over sensitized already, Carlos can tell, but still he won't let go.  Not until, with a few shallow, uncoordinated thrusts, Carlos comes, groaning guttural approximations of Cecil's name into the skin of his back as he does.

            When they collapse into a messy, sweaty pile on the sheets, Carlos can't help but think again of the secret police, of the bugs in Cecil's house and the way he feels so much more real with Cecil there, tangled up with him.  Night Vale feels more true right in this moment than it does any other time, but it's not quite as scary after hearing Cecil screaming his name.

            A paper flutters down on top of them from the air vent, and it doesn't even phase Carlos.  He's getting used to it, the more he and Cecil sleep together.  Cecil looks vaguely annoyed as he yanks it close to his face, his glasses apparently too far away on the nightstand to warrant getting them.

            "Ugh," he groans after he reads it, more petulant than anything, and he crumples the notice and tosses it towards the direction of the bathroom.

            "What is it?"

            Cecil doesn't immediately respond, fidgeting against Carlos until he thinks he might have to pin him down and somehow force the answers out of him - not that it's likely he'd get very far; Cecil is far too cunning to be forced into anything.  Finally, though, he groans again and covers his face with his hands.

            "I just got fined for breaking surveillance equipment," Cecil says morosely.

            "Oh my god," Carlos says, unable to help the laughter bubbling up inside him, "Cecil!"

            "Don't _laugh_ , it's not funny!"

            "Oh my _god_!"

            Cecil shoves at him, but doesn't exactly fight back when Carlos tightens his grip around him, his leg finding a comfortable place to pin down Cecil's thighs.  "I'm so embarrassed," he hears Cecil moan despondently, and it just makes him laugh more.

            "Well," he says, once he's managed to stop being (by his own admission) the absolute worst, "At least you aren't going to have every man in a ski mask giving you a thumbs up for the next week."

            Cecil groans, covering his face with both his hands, and rolls off the bed entirely in a mortified fit.  Carlos leans over the edge and looks down at him, and his chest feels too tight and miles too big at the same time.

            "We could always buy some duct tape?" he offers.

            Cecil cranes his neck and _stares_ at him, and Carlos has to cover his face with a pillow to keep from potentially damaging more surveillance equipment with his own bellowing laughter.


End file.
